


i miss you only in the morning

by petaldancing



Category: Tonari no Kaibutsu-kun | My Little Monster
Genre: Gen, i am sorry the micchan natsume tag is basically a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petaldancing/pseuds/petaldancing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s being towed back to high school by a twenty-five year old woman with pink earrings. (ageflip!AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i miss you only in the morning

Life is such a pain in the ass sometimes.

Mitsuyoshi has to jiggle his new key in the lock to get the door open when no one bothers to answer his knocking. Then, he hauls his duffel bag into the tiny apartment and stares at the mess of open books and crumpled papers spanning the floor. The curtains are drawn and what little light managing to slip through the gaps do little to help him find an empty space to set his belongings.

What was his mother thinking, allowing Haru to be his guardian?

Mitsuyoshi thinks back to the Yoshida household, built from people who breathed affluence and walked in shoes polished by someone else, all the things his corner of family will never be – and resigns to his mother’s decision. He’s just going to make the best of it. He can imagine her yelling her lungs out at him if he’d settle for anything else.

He brushes his hand against his ear, the new piercing itching. He feels another itch under his shirt, near his heart, but doesn’t move his hand there to comfort it.

A sudden rustle of papers sends him out of his thoughts. He sees something moving on the couch at the far end of the room. A man’s head appears over the arm of the couch, hair in disarray. He’s not even wearing a shirt. “Hey, Micchan! You’re here already!” Haru calls to him from under a blanket of books.

“Don’t call me that,” Mitsuyoshi growls.

Haru sharpens his posture and proceeds to glare. His eyes are piercing through the dim room and Mitsuyoshi finds himself stepping away. He grits his teeth when his back hits the wall. The feeling makes him feel weak and unbrave and it’s not what he promised his mother. He hates it when he does this and he hates that Haru makes this happen just by looking at him.

“… Maybe if you wear something to cover your eyes,” Haru says as he eases back. His glare softens as he averts his gaze to the ceiling.

Ah. Right. Mitsuyoshi had his uncle’s eyes. Not a good trait to have inherited, apparently. Unzipping one small compartment of his bag, he pulls out a pair of sunglasses.

“Better?” he asks dryly.

Haru sits up and beams at him, his mood much improved. “Perfect! Now make yourself at home, Micchan!”  

△

Mitsuyoshi places the last book on the stack and pushes it to the side, against the wall. Taking a deep breath, he sits back on the floor of the apartment and admires his hard work. He’s cleared away most the obstructions, returning the majority of the books and papers into the bookshelf and arranging the remaining into small stacks. Haru steps out from the hallway, a hand tucked underneath his shirt to scratch at his stomach.

“Hey, I can see the floor now!” he exclaims. “You’re really useful if you try huh, Micchan?”

“I didn’t have anything better to do,” Mitsuyoshi says coolly, “and I don’t want to trip and fall flat on my face every time I step into the room.”

“You’ve got to prepare for school, don’t you?” Haru reminds him as he flops down on the couch, grabbing a pencil and a thick set of research papers off the coffee table. Its existence had gone unnoticed until Mitsuyoshi had managed to tidy up more than half the debris in the apartment.

Mitsuyoshi clenches his hand against the floor. “Give me a little time to settle in, will you?”

“It’s been a week, Micchan,” Haru sings out, tapping his pencil against his nose. “What kinda’ guardian would I be if I didn’t make sure you got your education, huh?”    

“Where’s Yuuzan?”

Haru doesn’t seem to like the change of topic. “Dunno’,” he says, voice blank and nonchalant. “Hey, are you going to cook dinner tonight too?”

Mitsuyoshi ignores him and gathers himself onto his feet. “I’m going out.”

“Where?” Haru crosses and uncrosses his legs on the sofa, fidgeting in an attempt to get into a more comfortable position.

Anywhere, just anywhere will do for fuck’s sake, I just can’t stand staying here watching TV or watching you do your work or  watching myself just blend in with the wallpaper, Mitsuyoshi wants to say. Instead, “Convenience store.”

△

He finds Yuuzan sitting on his bed in his room, enjoying on a lollipop.

“How is a high school student supposed to afford living alone in a place like this?” Granted, the apartment is only one room large, and Yuuzan’s managed to make full use of the space to squeeze a bed, desk and closet in it. Mitsuyoshi can’t take three steps without banging his knee against something. He gives up and decides that squatting is the only way to avoid more injury.

“Father doesn’t care what I do as long as I don’t get in Haru’s way,” is Yuuzan’s reply as he gazes out the window. The view the room offers is poor, the brick wall of the next building staring straight back at them. “Hey. When are you going to start coming to school?”

“’Don’t really feel like it,” Mitsuyoshi says, running a hand through his hair.

Yuuzan looks over at him and smiles, the lollipop stick angling against his lips. “You’d break about five rules in the dress code if you did anyway.”

“Save it.” His legs ache. He drops from a squat into a sitting position on the floor of the room.

“Tell me when you’re going to start coming, alright? We’ll walk to school together. Like best friends.” Yuuzan pauses to imagine the scene before laughing loudly, as if the idea of them walking to school together is a big joke. Mitsuyoshi thinks about it and grins despite himself. Yeah. It would be hilarious. 

He looks at the school uniform hanging from Yuuzan’s closet, ironed and ready to be worn tomorrow. His old uniform looks nothing like it. It didn’t have a tie, for one. His old uniform had had a convenient shirt pocket. This new one he’s supposed to wear is plain and its pants are a dark, serious black. It reminds him nothing of his old school or his old hometown.

But that’s what they are, aren’t they? Old.

△

 “Let me work at the batting centre.”

Haru looks up from his work.

“Why’d you want to do that?” he asks as he stretches his arms over his head.

“I have a debt to pay, remember?” Mitsuyoshi tells him, “I need to start making a dent in it, at least.” He stores the strawberry ice cream Haru told him to buy in the tiny fridge, wiping the condensed water on his hands against the side of his jeans.

Haru wrinkles his nose. “I thought we agreed that I’d cover that,” he says lightly, as if the decision had been off the top of his head, “You don’t need to worry about stuff like that till’ you graduate, Micchan.”

“Don’t,” Mitsuyoshi says with a firmness that feels odd in his throat. It feels too serious and less than a year ago he would have never thought he’d be talking this way or thinking about matters related to finances. He’d been an ordinary, rebellious teenager. “I have to do it myself. Just give me the job and I’ll go to school, okay? Just, leave me alone.” He removes his sunglasses for a moment to rub his eyes.

Haru looks at him without saying a word. Mitsuyoshi, pressured, slips his sunglasses back on, but it doesn’t change the expression on Haru’s face. He grinds the heel of his foot into the floor, against the terse silence, but Haru’s not letting up, not giving him an opening to ignore him.

“Don’t forget your ice cream,” Mitsuyoshi mumbles half-heartedly before retreating into his room.   

 △

Over breakfast, Mitsuyoshi tries again.

“If you’re either here or at the research centre doing your work, who’s watching over the batting centre? You need me. I know how to work the machines and I’ve almost memorised all the rates,” he says as he shovels a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Haru takes a sip from his mug of coffee, leafing through the day’s newspaper. “Oh,” he begins, “I already have someone manning the store on most days. Like I said, Micchan, you don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“Someone’s already working there? Who?” he asks, shocked that Haru has a friend who doesn’t mind wasting most of their afternoons away in a noisy place like that. The air conditioning’s always been unreliable, and it’s not uncommon for the boys who visit to break into fights or frankly annoying name-calling.  

“She was a friend from my high school,” Haru answers, folding the newspaper and letting it slide off his lap as he digs into his own breakfast. It lands on the floor with a dull thud. Mitsuyoshi tells him to learn how to pick up after himself. He clears his plate and ends up picking up after Haru for the umpteenth time.  

It’s no use talking to Haru now. He’ll just have to see who this person is and threaten them to give him the job. Easy.   

△

When he wanders into the batting center after breakfast, the faint smell of baseballs and clunking sound of vending machines is familiar, reminding him of when he’d been younger and enjoyed coming over to try the machines whenever he visited Haru. Haru used to seat himself behind the counter, giving out scowls or smiles depending on his mood. It’s jarring when he rounds the corner and sees a very female figure manning the counter instead. Must be the guy’s girlfriend. Oh wait – Mitsuyoshi remembers that Haru had said ‘she’. So, is this the person?

The young woman’s typing away at a pink laptop, humming to herself. Her hair’s been pulled into a messy, but somehow elegant, ponytail. As he approaches, her eyes flick up, curious, and, even worse, dazzling. Must be her make-up, Mitsuyoshi tells himself.

“Hi! You must be Haru-kun’s cousin!” the woman says with a smile.

“Um, yeah.”

“Natsume,” she introduces herself, straightening her posture before dropping her gaze back to the screen of her laptop. She lifts a hand to adjust the laptop, her fingernails in a bright, assertive pink that matches her laptop. He finds himself staring at them, and it takes him a moment to come to grips with the situation. He had been prepared to stare her down until she gave up the job, but now, it’s difficult to even look at her face.  

Mitsuyoshi’s plan to intimidate out a job vacancy for himself is teetering on the edge of failure. He fidgets, staring at Natsume’s elbows.

“You want to try a few rounds in the cage, Micchan?” she asks when she notices him standing still.

“No, and don’t call me that!” he says, shocked that the nickname has wormed its way here. He’s going to pummel Haru when he gets back to the apartment. Or at least try to.

“Oops,” Natsume says, her mouth rounding. The absentminded cheerfulness makes her apology an unlikely one. “Well, what are you doing here, then?”

“I need a job.”

The woman tilts her chin, seeming to think. “I don’t need any help here,” she says after a pause.   

“No, I mean I’m taking this job,” he informs her, trying to sound demanding and serious. His voice betrays him, coming out too polite and uncertain. Natsume, who must be Haru’s age, doesn’t even budge, and Mitsuyoshi feels embarrassed that this dainty person, at least one head shorter than him, is unaffected by the nasty looks he’s attempting to direct at her.

“No can do,” Natsume tells him, her voice like a piece of candy that’s far too sweet.

“… Don’t you have a real day job?”

Natsume looks up from her laptop briefly. “I’m updating my blog,” she tells him. How she manages to sound proud and dignified baffles Mitsuyoshi.   
  
He sighs. “Like I said, don’t you have a proper job?”

“This is a job,” the woman informs him. “Micchan, don’t you have a job too?”

“What? No. Which is why I want this job.”

“You do,” Natsume insists. She tilts her head, her hair falling into the precise curve of her neck and shoulders. “You’re supposed to be a student.”

△

The lunch bell rings and Mitsuyoshi lugs his school bag by its strap as he walks out into the corridor. The students leave a wide berth for him to walk through, lining up along the walls and windows, some whispering to each other.

Half a day in class is already enough to make him want to go back to the apartment. The thought that he would rather mother over Haru than attend math class is seriously depressing.  Mitsuyoshi makes it out past the school gate without running into Yuuzan, who would’ve probably thought of some way to make him stay till the last bell. He’d been prepared for that. Now, it’s almost disappointing. Mitsuyoshi exhales a loud sigh and starts on his way back to Haru’s place.  

As he passes by the batting center, Natsume appears, clattering down the stairs in her heels. “Micchan!” she calls out. Mitsuyoshi flinches, hoping that if he’d ducked his head low enough, she would have ignored him.

“What?” he asks as he continues walking on.

Natsume easily catches up to him on the sidewalk, matching his pace. The scent of her perfume hits him without warning. “You’re going home, aren’t you?”

‘Home’ isn’t the word he wants to use. “… Yeah,” he says anyway.

“I’m going to look for Haru too,” Natsume begins. Then, her expression changes, as if she’s been stricken with a sudden thought. “Hey, wait a  minute – you’re supposed to be in school!” she exclaims, pointing up at him.

Mitsuyoshi can’t bother being polite anymore, even if she has a pretty face and pretty eyes and pretty –  _argh_!!

He decides to scowl at her.

Natsume juts her chin out and produces a glare that could rival Haru’s, hands flying to her hips, disregarding him. This woman has an incredibly huge ego. “We’re going back to school!” she declares. Natsume reaches out for his arm, but her hand snaps into a clenched fist just before she can touch his shirt sleeve. She hesitates, for a moment, doubt flickering in her eyes, before grabbing onto him. Hard. “Hah!” Natsume celebrates, proud of herself for some reason.

“ _No_ ,” Mitsuyoshi says, leaning away from her touch. “No. No!”

He’s being towed back to high school by a twenty-five year old woman with pink earrings.

△

“You’re here!” Yuuzan exclaims when he spots Mitsuyoshi by the shoe lockers.

Mitsuyoshi stomps up to him. “Don’t make so much noise,” he says, grumbling as he bends to retrieve his own pair of sneakers.

“But, you’re here!” Yuuzan continues, apparently captivated. “Tomorrow, let’s have lunch on the roof!”

“It’s cold up there.”

“It’s pretty cold here too,” Yuuzan says in a sing-song voice.

Mitsuyoshi rolls his eyes and walks out of school. Yuuzan tries to follow, but is stopped by a group of girls. Despite their persuasions, he tells them that he’s busy ‘leading his friend back onto the right path’ and can’t follow them to tea. Mitsuyoshi hears impressed, longing sighs of ‘Yoshida-kun is so cool’ and turns around to see Yuuzan’s red, red face. Finally, there’s something worth coming to school to see.  

△

On his way back after school one day, Yuuzan chatters on and on about all the nonsensical things. The new cake store on the other side of town, the noisy neighbours he has, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The sound of his handphone ringing is a welcome surprise. Mitsuyoshi throws a hand at Yuuzan’s face as he picks up the call.

“Micchan!”

It’s Natsume voice. Why does Natsume have his number?

“Micchan! Are you nearby? Come quick! Haru’s going to start a fight!” she tells him. From the audible sounds in the background, it’s quite probable that he’s already started.

“Alright, alright, I’m only one street away,” he tells her. Snapping the phone shut, he hurriedly explains to Yuuzan before jogging down to the batting center. Yuuzan had been eager to follow until he learned of the destination and cause of commotion.

MItsuyoshi catches his breath at the top of the stairs. He enters the center to find a few students gathered near the counter. Natsume’s outside the circle, standing on her toes and peering in, telling Haru to stop. Meanwhile, Haru’s in the middle of the fight. There’s a boy on his back and he’s holding up another by the collar of his shirt. Mitsuyoshi pushes his way through the spectators. “Stop!” he shouts.

“Haru! Stop fighting!” he yells, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling. The boy on Haru topples off.

“This punk here said something to Natsume! He’s going to pay – ” Haru doesn’t have a chance to finish. Mitsuyoshi bashes his forehead against Haru’s, knocking the wind out of him. He falls over the back of the sofa in the seating area. The students who’d been sitting there barrel out of the way. “Who was he talking about?” he asks Natsume.

She gestures to the bunch of schoolboys running out of the center. Mitsuyoshi takes a step forward, but the gentle hand on his back stops him from giving chase.   

The centre is devoid of sound. Mitsuyoshi scans his surroundings. There are students everywhere, but all of them seem too shocked to speak. He narrows his eyes, and something flares in the pit of his stomach, and he’s ready to ask all of them what the hell they think they’re looking at before –

Someone’s clapping.

“Wow. That’s the fastest I’ve seen anyone handle Haru. Nice!”

A young man walks up to him through the thin crowd, hands clasped together. In his office wear, he’s out of place amongst the school uniforms and adolescent faces. But, the longer Mitsuyoshi stares at the guy, the more he thinks that he could easily pass off as a high schooler.

“You must be Micchan. I’m Sasahara. Most people call me Sasayan, nice to meet you.”

△

Sasayan’s a small guy. Mitsuyoshi towers over him, and yet, most of the time, Sasayan still came off as the bigger person.

He could tame Haru with a good-natured comment and a well-placed hand on his shoulder. He could lecture Natsume even when she tried to use that face of hers to gain some sympathy.  

“I coach baseball at your school on Fridays and Saturdays,” Sasayan says while glancing at the crest on Mitsuyoshi’s uniform.

“At Syoko?” he asks. The man nods cheerfully. “So, that means you used to play?”  
  
Mitsuyoshi’d wanted to join a sports team in middle school too. He’d considered baseball and soccer. Of course, after his mother fell ill, he didn’t have the time for extracurricular activities.

“I was the shortstop on the team. Good times,” Sasayan leans back on the sofa, reminiscing as he sips from a can of coffee. “I miss those days. I really enjoyed going to school back then. It was mostly because of baseball and my friends.”

“So you didn’t continue playing after that?”

“I didn’t go pro. I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Never hit a homerun in my life. I’m too short,” Sasayan says smoothly. He smiles and shrugs his shoulders and Mitsuyoshi wonders how he can admit his failures so easily. Who  _wasn’t_  affected by their shortcomings? Or maybe, the bigger question is: Is Sasayan even human?

△

_“It suits you.”_

_“You know, mothers don’t really compliment their kids on their new piercings.”_

_“Well, if you want to rebel, at least you’re rebelling stylishly,” she says as she combs a hand through her hair. It’s beginning to grey now that he looks carefully._

_“I can’t rebel if you approve of it!” he informs her._

_His mother’s smile is a pale lipstick red, and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Exactly.”_

_“Act like a mother for once, would you?” he’s laughing, and he feels warm._

_“Yeah, I should, huh?” she says as she picks up her handbag from the table, getting ready to leave. “Before it’s too late.”_

Mitsuyoshi throws the blanket off as he bolts awake.

He lowers his head onto his knees, blinking. He knows shaking his head won’t help, but he still does it anyway. It takes five more minutes before his alarm clock rings, and he’s left with no excuse not to get out of bed.  

△

Instead of sleeping in class, he ends up staying awake to write down notes for the important test he has tomorrow. By the time he makes it to Natsume’s countertop, Mitsuyoshi reconsiders his decision to laze around at the batting center. He should just go back to his own bed and lay there till even Haru notices. He’s too tired to do that, though.

In the end, he slumps on the counter. He takes off his sunglasses and tries to catch a nap. However, the now-and-then group of students entering, loud and jostling with each other over a bag of chips or a handphone with a cute girl’s text on the screen, prevents him from successfully resting. After the fourth group passes behind him towards the batting cages, Mitsuyoshi sits up, defeated. Natsume’s opposite him, on her laptop as usual. There’s an ache at the top of the bridge of his nose.

“… You have very pretty eyes.”

Mitsuyoshi stops massaging the space between his eyes to stare at Natsume. He quickly grabs his sunglasses off the counter and rams them back onto his face.

“Hey!” She folds her arms. “What kind of reaction is that?”

“What kind of person says this kind of thing?” he shoots back at her.  

But, he knows the answer. A painfully honest person.

△

Natsume waves a finger back and forth near him.

“What are you doing?” he asks her, trying not to look up from his homework.

The woman pauses before deciding to answer. “Counting your earrings. You have four, Micchan. That’s a lot,” she says, drumming her fingertips against the counter.

He cups his left ear in a fit of self-consciousness. “I got one on my sixteenth birthday, another two on my seventeenth,” he says, and hates that he’s telling this to her and hates that he wants her to know.

“What about the last one, then?”

Mitsuyoshi flips a page. “After my mother’s funeral.”

Natsume seems taken aback by his reply.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“Micchan, is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” the woman asks.

“It’s nothing. I’m going.” He leaves before Natsume can stop him. Mitsuyoshi realises that he’s made a habit of leaving places before he means to.

△

The batting centre is eerily quiet today. As Mitsuyoshi steps in through the automatic doors, the silence that greets him is a distortion against the usual liveliness of the place. He checks the time on his phone. It’s about half an hour to noon. Maybe business doesn’t pick up until after school lets out. As he enters the store, he spots Sasayan leaning over the counter, his hands in fists and crossed behind his back.

Curiously, Mitsuyoshi tilts himself at an angle to get a better look at what Sasayan is doing. He immediately straightens his posture when he realises what’s happening.

Natsume cracks open her eyes. When her gaze settles on him, Mitsuyoshi swallows, the sound deafening to his ears. It takes her awhile to understand. Maybe it’s because Sasayan’s tongue is in her mouth. Natsume’s eyes snap wide open a few moments later, registering his presence.

She yells into Sasayan’s mouth the next second. The poor guy looks disoriented. He bends back and whips his gaze over to Mitsuyoshi. The two lovebirds proceed to coordinate the shade of their faces.  

“C-calm down!” Mitsuyoshi shouts, feeling his cheeks grow a feverish red.

“Micchan!” Natsume shrills. “W-what are you doing here? Don’t you have school?”

His palms are sweaty and he can’t help but clench and unclench his hands. “I skipped out,” he says, “Actually, you know what? I think I’m going to go to school now,” he adds, swerving away and directing himself out of the batting centre.  

“I’ve never seen Micchan so eager to go to school,” he hears Sasayan saying as he stops just beyond the entrance. Natsume’s tired sigh follows those words.

“Maybe we should do this more often, eh, Asako?” Sasayan suggests with a good-natured chuckle.

Mitsuyoshi takes the staircase two steps at a time as Natsume’s yell echoes behind him.

△

“Dinner!” Haru calls down the hallway.

Mitsuyoshi only emerges from his room because of his growling stomach. If not for his hunger, he would have stayed on his bed for the rest of the day. It’s another depressing thought to note that he’s been spending most of his time on his bed.

“What’s the matter?” Haru says as he plates the final dish.

“Not much,” Mitsuyoshi replies.

“Oh yeah. I know. Sasayan told me about it. Didn’t you know?” Haru says, shovelling rice into his mouth afterwards. He can be annoyingly sharp if he wants to.   

“I didn’t,” Mitsuyoshi says stiffly. “And I don’t care.”

“You sure look like you do,” his cousin replies, tactless as always. “Sorry but Natsume’s probably not going to budge. She really has a thing for Sasayan. Maybe they have amazing s– ”

“ _Don’t talk about stuff like that at the dinner table_!” he shouts at Haru, feeling his face heating up once again. “ _Or, ever, actually_!”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a delicate flower, Micchan.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re going on about.”

“Don’t worry, if you want some porn to help you feel better, I can lend you some from my stash.”

Mitsuyoshi jabs at the fish. He stares intently at the meat at the end of his chopstick, locking his jaw. Ultimately, once the first laugh escapes from his mouth, it’s difficult to stop.

“You are so weird,” he says, shaking his head.

Haru smiles a little at that. Mitsuyoshi thinks, ah, that’s his plan all along, but doesn’t feel as irritated as he’s meant to.

△

Afternoon remedial classes finally end, and Mitsuyoshi is prepared to go back to his room and lie on his bed and nap until dinner. As he crosses the school field, he spots the baseball team training. He squints, and sees a tiny figure standing at the edge of the diamond, shouting out to scattering boys. It’s Sasayan.

Sasayan notices him and gestures for him to go over. Mitsuyoshi checks his handphone for the time. Almost six. Baseball training should be ending soon. Since there’s not much else to do, Mitsuyoshi walks over to Sasayan, his sneakers getting dirty in the field’s mud.

While the baseball team members pick up after themselves and store their equipment, he and Sasayan sit on the small, rickety stands. Sasayan chugs down a bottle of water, not a thing out of place as he adjusts the collar of his baseball uniform. Sitting next to him, overlooking the baseball field, and noticing the light in his eyes, Mitsuyoshi can tell that Sasayan had been a baseball player. Is a baseball player.

“You know what, Micchan? Natsume must like you.”

“Like me? You were the one smooching her – ”

“Don’t bring that up!” Sasayan interrupts, a rare expression of discomfort and embarrassment spreading across his red face. He pulls the bill of his cap down. “I didn’t mean it in that sense. Natsume’s never been really good with guys. She doesn’t like most men.”

“But you’re a guy,” Mitsuyoshi points out, voice dull and disbelieving.

“It’s only because I’ve known her for a while.” Sasayan’s trying to sound modest. Trying. Mitsuyoshi can tell that he’s secretly proud. He frowns at Sasayan, and the wide, wide grin he receives in response only cements that fact. He’ll never understand adults.

“What’s your point?” he asks.

“She likes you,” Sasayan laughs. “That’s the point.”

Mitsuyoshi doesn’t know what to say.

The baseball team, having finished their tasks, gather together in front of the stands, looking to Sasayan for instruction. “Okay, time for cool down!” the man says, getting up onto his feet. He bounds down the stands to the ground. Before he leaves with the rest of the team, he glances over his shoulder, up to Mitsuyoshi. 

“You should go back to the batting center. She’s been feeling lonely without you around.”

The sound of the baseball team counting in sets of 8 and stretching their triceps is the last thing he hears as he leaves school.

△

Natsume flushes when she first sees him again. She attempts to hide behind her laptop, but belatedly realises that it's not a foolproof plan of action. 

“H – Hi,” she says, peeking out over its top. Her smile is crooked and tense.

He's seen that face of hers so many times at this point, yet, he's always had trouble looking at her right in the eyes. Mitsuyoshi doesn't want it to be that way any longer.   

 

“Look, I don’t want any weird stuff between us. We can be normal, right?” he says, taking off his glasses and raising his gaze to meet hers.

Natsume doesn't respond at first. She stares up at him, blinking. And he remembers something about 'pretty eyes'. His first thought is to put the sunglasses back on - but, no, not this time.

The woman waits for a moment longer, before smiling. The smile Natsume gives him is dazzling. “Of course.”

△

It’s a quiet afternoon. For some reason, there aren’t any students coming into the batting center today. As Mitsuyoshi studies, it strikes him that – they must all be preparing for their exams too. He would study at home but Haru's not exactly the quietest person to be around. 

Natsume’s still manning her counter. Reliable, in both her pinkness and her strict working hours of nine to seven. Just like always. When he asks her if she’ll always be there to open the batting center, she replies immediately with a ‘yes!’.

“Oh, but on Sundays because I need breaks too. And sometimes Sasayan and I go on trips. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you in advice. You know what, Micchan? You could join us next time if you want!” Natsume babbles. The corner of her lip quirks up, calling his attention back. “You can call me if you need anything, though! Even when I’m on break.”

“Even then?” Mitsuyoshi asks, teasing and to be sure.

Natsume nods, serious and beautiful. It’s been a while since he could actually trust someone to be  _there_. It had taken him awhile to realise that he’d been stupid for not realising that there had been Haru and Yuuzan too.

“Micchan, you’ve got something on your mind.” Natsume doesn’t ask. She outright states it.

He doesn’t deny it this time.

“You can tell your senpai all about it!” the woman begins cheerfully. Then, her face softens.

“Seriously, you know, it’s okay if you want to talk about it. You remind me of my best friend. She’s always going off on her own, never telling anyone her problems. Micchan, it’s okay to rely on someone, at least once in a while,” Natsume says. She braces her elbows on the counter and leans forward. Mitsuyoshi swallows, shutting his eyes in a vague form of resistance. He feels a warm hand threading through his hair and patting his head.

“… What’re you doing?” he asks, looking at Natsume from the corner of his eye.

The woman smiles, her pink lipgloss shining under the ceiling’s lights. “You looked like you needed it.”

“Well. I don – ,” he stops, the words halting in his throat. They don’t want to be said even though he knows he needs to say it, knows he needs to be strong, knows that he only ever allowed himself to cry on the night of her funeral. Knows that he’s been waiting for someone to say this to him from the very beginning.

“Micchan. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

Mitsuyoshi leans into her touch. It reminds him of something he’s been missing. 

△

**Author's Note:**

> teenage!Micchan would probably differ from the Micchan we know in the series? I just hope my interpretation of him doesn’t butcher him. Would love to get feedback/crit on this! I spent… a lot longer than what I was intending to on this… and took a lot of liberties with it being AU.


End file.
